


I Think I Feel In Flowers

by eastjesusnowhere



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4199586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastjesusnowhere/pseuds/eastjesusnowhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan doesn’t know how to express his feelings like a normal person, so he speaks through flowers instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I Feel In Flowers

I’ve never been good at showing my emotions. I was cursed with this monotone voice and soft, inexpressive face. Most of the people who’ve ever known me have joked that I simply do not have emotions at all. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Inside, my feelings are consuming me. I overanalyze them and try to express them properly. But the English language, no matter how vast, cannot possibly communicate these complex energies I hold inside. So I bottle them up. I swear, one day, they’ll eat me away.

I don’t have much faith left in the English language, but if there’s one thing I still have hope for, it’s nature. I’ve always secretly had a thing for the meanings behind flowers, because flower language can be both simple and complex, sometimes at the same time. Simple shapes and colors, instead of the words that have always failed me. I don’t feel in words. I think I feel in flowers.

I swear, I’m trying to be normal. Normal people buy flowers for people they like, right? I dwell on this for a bit as I drive to Brendon’s house, a bouquet of yellow roses with pink tips on the passenger seat. As I approach his street, I almost consider turning around. I mean, who am I kidding? I’m just a fucked up kid who can’t express his emotions like a normal human being. Brendon is lovely and caring and so expressive, something I’ll never be. People like Brendon Urie don’t like people like me, simple as that.

I turn down his street anyways, thinking, fuck it, Ross, show some emotion for once in your pathetic life. You never know if you don’t try, right? There’s a slight chance he could even like me back, even. He’s always sitting so close to me, whispering jokes in my ear until I crack a smile. I don’t smile for very many people. He gets flirty with me, too, but he always has these teasing, sarcastic undertones that lead me to believe that’s just how he is with everyone.

But now, the time for emotional over-analyzing is over, because I’m in his driveway. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Don’t fuck it up, I think to myself as I walk to his front door, bouquet in my hands, clasped tight behind my back. When I reach his door, I release one hand to knock, softly, but hopefully loud enough for him to hear.

“Be right there!” I hear a familiar voice yell from somewhere on the other side. Soon after, he is there, standing in front of me, in sweatpants and an inside-out tee shirt. “Hey, uh, sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come over,” he says, but his beaming smile shows he isn’t bothered. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m staring, and that it’s my turn to say something back. “Yeah, uh, I was just stopping by real quick to bring you these,” I say as I pull the flowers from behind my back. His face lights up as he takes the bouquet and says, “Oh, Ryan, they’re so lovely! I’m gonna go put them in a vase! Wanna come inside?” I decline politely because, no, he didn’t get the hint, and I just made a fool out of myself for nothing. Brendon probably goes, puts the flowers in a vase, and thinks about how lucky he is to have such great friends, that buy him such pretty flowers. I, however, drive home, and think, who could love me? I am out of my mind.

\--

I’ve never been a morning person, and pretty much everyone I know, knows that. That’s why I’m surprised when I wake up at 8 am to someone pounding on my door, in perfect time with the pounding in my head. I drag myself out of bed and pull my front door open, and I’m reminded that, oh, yeah, Brendon Urie is a morning person.

“Hey, dude, oh, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry. I just saw these at the store, and I just had to get ‘em for you, y’know?” As I try to process what he’s saying, I notice the bouquet of orange roses that he hands to me, and I feel my entire face turn red. “Uh-uh, t-thanks, Bren,” I barely get out as I accept the flowers. “C’mon, Ross, invite me inside, I’ll make us both some coffee,” he offers, so I step to the side and let him in.

Brendon, as it turns out, makes amazing coffee, and convinces me to let him stay and watch saturday morning cartoons. We just sit there and enjoy comfortable silence and good coffee, and every so often he laughs at something on the tv, and it would be a good morning, for once, if I could just stop over-analyzing what those flowers meant. Brendon is a kid at heart, he probably picked them out because they’re bright and colorful. But, what if he didn’t? What if he understood what the flowers meant, and this was his response?

I’ve been wrapped up in my thoughts for so long, I didn’t realise I’d been staring at him until he turned to look at me. “You okay, dude?” he asks, and I don’t know what to say. The English language is flawed, so I don’t say anything, I just do. I lean right across the small space between us, until our lips finally touch, and for a split second I think I’ve made a huge mistake, but then he’s there, kissing me back, and his lips are so soft, and he tastes like coffee. As I try to place how I’m feeling, I realize, I don’t feel in flowers, after all. I feel in kisses. I feel in the way our lips move against each others, the way he puts his hands on my waist to pull me closer, the way I wrap my arms around his neck.

I break the kiss, because I remembered that I need to breathe. He’s still holding onto me, and, when I open my eyes, he looks at me, and he’s smiling. I can’t help but smile right back, because I did it. I finally expressed my feelings, I proved that I’m capable of such things, and it was actually worth it for once. All I did was buy some flowers, but I know now that I would do just about anything to make him as happy as he looks right now.

I’m actually enjoying the silence, but I have to ask, need to know that he knows, so I say, “Hey, I guess you really did get my message?”. His smile falters a bit, and he raises an eyebrow and says, “What message?”. “Oh, y’know, the flowers?” I say, but he just looks more confused. “Wait, Brendon, you didn’t know? So you didn’t pick out those orange roses on purpose?” He just shakes his head and says, “No, I just thought they were pretty…”

Suddenly I’m laughing, like, really hard, because I just kissed the dude I’ve been into for god knows how long, because of a message he didn’t even mean to send. He’s still looking at me like I have three heads, so I explain, “Brendon, the flowers I gave you, those yellow roses with the pink tips? Those symbolize friendship turning into love. I didn’t think you understood, but then you brought me orange roses, which symbolize lust and passion, so…”

“Well, ambrosias symbolize reciprocated love, but, I don’t like those, so you can just kiss me again instead.”


End file.
